A Collection of Scribbles
by Duggs
Summary: Within the ages of Thedas, many heroes were crafted in the name of conflict, in the name of justice. Wars were fought out of petty wishes. Dark rituals were cast to save many lives,or even to take them. But these are just the "scribblings" of the mind, the thought processes of the people who might rise to glory, or fall away in the shadows, forgotten forever.
1. Mage-Hunter Volume 1

**9:41 Dragon**

** The Day of Reckoning**

In -3 Ancient, Drakon formulated the Cult of the Maker, to put in modern terms, the Chantry. In 1:20 Divine the Circle of Magi was created to lock mages up due to the dangers of magic, alongside them the Templar Order was created the same year, to regulate mages on the bindings of magic. Because, as we all know, _magic is to serve man and never to rule over him._

We stood by the large, gray iron walls of Ostwick's Circle of Magi, awaiting orders from the Knight-Commander. With auburn hair matted dry upon sweat against my helm, and templar issued armor, you might expect I to have some sort of _fluffy, _or, some kind of _cooling _niche in my suit. Nope, apparently the templar's vigilance ratings are too high enough to even consider letting their fellow knights avoid a heat stroke. What a wonderful world.

My eyes traced the Grand Hall, empty as it may seem, rumors of an uprising as stood afoot in the tower. Although rebellion isn't a new thing to us anymore, ever since the Champion of Kirkwall sprouted about the Mage and Templar Conflict. We've been a tiny bit on edge.

And that's an understatement.

I can't deny that every time I look at one of the mages; I see a sad soul, who wants nothing but to be free from his or her's shackles that they call a Circle. But, their magic brings about the wrath that could tear one's soul into two. It is terribly beautiful.

I find myself chiding constantly: _I have to accept this life, that they are a constant threat. _

We continued to stand guard, the mages were ordered to their chambers, many of them terrified of what might happen. But we'd never break the Circle, we will keep our vigilance, and guard proudly in the face of conflict. This is what I was taught, to keep constant standards from _all _forces. Not just magic.

Creaking sheers echoed across the walls, the vibration making my legs wobble. The Knight-Commander came in, his iron-clad boots sending quakes to the floor. We all stood still, careful not to make eye contact.

"Templars, to the mage's quarters." His voice was neutral, without inflection.

Knight-Captain Aurora stood forward, the expressionless tide creeping up her face, naturally to be expected. "May I ask what for, sir? If you do not mind for me to indulge." Only she could ever question him without discipline.

The flash in his eyes seemed minimal compared to the rest of his body, but it announced his abrupt mistake. Air sucked into his mouth. "Just recently, Lord-Seeker Lambert has declared the end to the Circle's."

My breath escaped, my mind tunneled to repeat his exact words. _–called off the Circle's_. We all broke our neutrality; some of us gave light gasps while I just stood, my eyes popping from my sockets.

He continued. "We are to destroy everything, every last mage is to be killed, and the towers burned." _The Right of Annulment_ times ten; this is what he is saying. This is happening, yes, this should not come as a surprise to me. But the urge to scream "No!" tries to nab at me, egging me on to object.

She's up there, and I have to save her.

"You all heard the Knight-Commander's orders, let's move."

The steps to the quarters, they seemed like forever, each time my foot meets a stone stair my heart jumps. We are going to slaughter them, in cold-blood. Simply based off of principle, how can that justify their deaths? Her death…

_They are dangerous, you have to accept this. If they show any lack of restraint, they are to be put down._

But that is the point; they did nothing to provoke us. Should the act of only of one person deem them all dead? This has all happened so quickly, too fast.

The end has come.

** 9:41 Dragon**

**One day before the fall of Ostwick's Circle**

Today, there was to be a Harrowing, when a mage goes through a trial of courage and wit by passing through the Fade and facing whatever lies within. And I am the one to kill them if they fail. _I am the mercy blade._

The mage's name is Julian Cassidy. He's a short, stubby fellow who wouldn't know a babe's blanket to a pride demon. I had stood in the background as the other templar's made fun of him, joked about how they wouldn't care if he were made Tranquil, emotionless, dead-faced to all things.

Why would they even joke about that? Would they ever want to be that way? Idiotic...

In the templar's quarters, I slipped on my amour, and equipped my bow and quiver, feeling the bowstring as if it was my stuffed bear from when I was little. I immediately pushed those thoughts into a mental garbage can. _That life is over._

"Hey, Penny, are you in there?" My head snapped back, only one person could so causally call me by my nickname reformed from Penelope.

"Astrid, what are you doing here-?" My voice stopped as she plowed me, realizing her arms were wrapped around my back.

"I haven't seen you in days! Do you know how much waiting that is?"

"It's only been two days."

"Exactly! You are my best friend, so… Oh!" She rummaged through her stain-yellow robes, finally holding out a round jewel, a diamond.

I hushed my voice, carful for any others not to here our interaction. "How did you get this, did you steal it!"

"Relax Penny, you know me. If I wasn't a mage, I'd be part of the Antivan Crows by now." She pumped her left hand up, like she was signaling them.

"Hush, do you know if the Knight-Commander caught just talking about this, no doubt _stealing_ from the tower, he would-."

"-he would reprimand you, probably kill y…" She stopped, giving off a puff of air; she clamped her hands on my shoulders. "It's okay, I understand your concern. Just relax, it'll be alright. Remember, _vir samahl la numin." _She paced her hands at her sides. "Remember when I first told you that?"

"Astrid, this isn't the time."

"Here me out, please."

I shrugged my shoulders; no doubt she wouldn't drop the subject. "When you were obsessed with Dalish Elf folklore, because you wanted to find out more about your people. I remember that you teased me by saying this until I finally was angry with you and demanded what it meant. You told me that it meant _we laugh and cry_." She nodded, knowing I'd ask another question. "What does that have to do-?"

"Penny." She fidgeted with her fingers, scrapping her nails together. Her voice became less sprightly, and sadder, melancholy.

"I take it that giving me the stolen diamond jewel wasn't the real reason you're here?"

She took in a deep breath, her spine shaking. "I came here because…" She stepped forward, cupping herself up. "I'm scared."

The sentence held monstrous significance despite the small size of it. "Of what?" Many things, it could be many things.

She breathes shook, holding in a sob. "I'm scared of what's happening out _there_. The conflict between Mages and Templars is getting out of hand and… and…" she choked up, her body wobbling. "What if the Templars just decide to kill us mages? It's a perfectly pliable decision, they could just announce to kill… then you'd have to… Oh I just can't!" the droplets fell from her eyelids, to her olive skin.

My arms found their way around her, holding here in a console, an embrace. "I understand, I…" I'm scared to. What if they did, just tell us to kill all the mages? I'd have to stick my arrows in their guts, kill them in cold blood. I couldn't bear to see her dead. Her blood pooling from her body. We are banded together, friends in a time of great suffering. We have to stick together, always.

That is exactly what I tell her.

"Thank you, you're…" She wipes away her tears, the water staining her robes. "I don't think I'd make it here if we hadn't met." Her throat gave off a moderate chuckle.

"Nonsense, you would've lasted."

"Until when? I was brought here when I was a wee babe, and I am meant to die in this tower. Unless…"

"Don't worry, we'll stick together." I take the diamond from her hand, and stuff it in the underbelly of my skirt. Tears fall to my steel amour.

If only I knew, that the fires of above would come to rain hell upon us all, and the world would tear itself asunder.


	2. Dwarven Wishes Volume 1

**9:30 Dragon**

** Venture **

She would be ready. The dwarf's bags were packed, the map well in hand, and her mind made up. She would leave Orzammar to the Stone and set off towards Fereldan's Circle of Magi. Dagna was to set off before the relations with the 'King or Orzammar' issue was well in hand, because the roads afterwards would be at the least horrendous by then. The Warden she'd met had only provided the confidence she'd needed to leave, to give up her caste. A potential failure, but she didn't mind.

"You can do this; you are all set and ready. The Warden told you that the Circle is ready for _your_ arrival." This was what she told herself beyond interval, whether it was in her head or aloud, for no one to hear.

Although something in the pit of her stomach bothered her, she tried to stuff this in the back of her mind, but it never helped the fact that even her family resented her for this decision. Earlier that day; she grew the gull to go tell her father of the news. Good for her, but the end of the world for him.

* * *

><p>Her legs shook as she entered the stone house she used to call a home, wanted to call a home. Her father, barrel chested with shags of brown hair greased against his skin, sat at a stone table. <em>Always stone<em>, she thought, _always the same thing. _She straightened her back, and glided toward him, her hands clenched till they nearly bleed.

His face snapped at her, he had been well aware of her intent since she first told him of her wishes, her dreams of studying magic. But she knew that dwarfs couldn't as much cast a puff of smoke, less do anything magic related. But she saw what was in her heart, and in her mind, and she would follow it no matter what.

"So? What is it?" His voice sharp, urgent like he didn't care, gnawed at Dagna, whispering _give up, you've lost_. Her feet shifted, she blinked hard so all she could see was an obsidian blanket that covered her sight.

_Sod it. _

She opened her eyes. "I'm leaving, and … and…" she choked on her words, coming out as simple gargles and snaps.

Her father's eyes set on her, burning through the skin of her body. She'd expected to explode in a fiery rage or something of the sort, not to be solemn, or rather keep his storm within.

She continued, letting the words flow from her mouth. "You know very well that I have had the wish of going to the Circle, you and mother, and the rest of the family. _I_ am not just going to sit by while _my _life is right out there like an open door." She breathed, her father merely staring at her. No emotion raced off his face, no sign of agitation that his own daughter is deciding something for her, and not on his command.

Her shoulders scrunched, her eyes tracing his face, the irritation reaching its apex. _Say Something_.

Nothing.

_Anything._

Still nothing.

"Do you even care about what I'm doing? Do you realize what is hap-!"

"Fine, then_ go_."

Air escaped her mouth, the dry heat making the sweat smear her skin. "What…"

"I said, 'go'."

The calmness of it all is what pissed her off the most, normally she'd wait in the sidelines. Let things happen, to control her. But she was through with this, she had to know. "What, no tremendous outtake on how I'm giving up my caste? No-."

"Why would I waste my breath? Sure, I _could_ tell you how you're wasting everything I've worked for you, how inconsiderate your being. That you'd dare walk out on your family like this."

"You think I don't know that!" Time stilled, her breathes shortening with each sentence. "Do you honestly think that I don't care, that I just thought 'hey, I'll just leave my family and go on my merry way'!" She stepped forward, her feet padded, and her shoulders now squared. "Yes, I'll admit, my decision may sound a tiny bit selfish to you. I can see that perspective. But that doesn't mean I won't miss you. You, and the rest of them, I will always love you all." Her mouth no longer quivered, yet the tears started to chide her. Filling her with remorse.

He still sat, his fingers tapping the table with an uneven rhythm. "I said, go."

* * *

><p>Now that she looked back on it, she thought about how much she never empathized, ever, the fact that she <em>loved<em> them. Sure she had said it, hypothetically, but she wished her father would see it that she did care about him.

That she'd forever love him.

She walked through the Hall of Heroes, where the statue of Paragons (dwarven men and women who have rose to the upmost status, succeeding dwarf culture by providing it in some magnificent way) stood in proud glory. She saw the front gates of Orzammar, beckoning her to come forth, to live her dream.

She had to admit to herself though, part of her was terrified of the outside world.

_What if I fall topside, into the sky?_

_ What if some bandit kills me._

_ Ooo, what if I get rich and find treasure! _

_ What if a bandit tries to kill me, and I get his or her's treasure!_

Ideas swarmed her mind, like insects crawling into a hive they filled her with the most joyous of thoughts. And…the most heart wrenching. Yet, her feet continued forward, her heart accelerated, like pots and pans had fallen in her rib cage.

But she would continue, the thrill of the outside making her body pump up, the underground dwarven city falling into the shadows behind her.

Even if not prepared, she was ready.

If only she knew, in the years to come, that the world would tear itself asunder.


End file.
